Love's Child
by SongofHopeandHonor
Summary: His hands—his graceful hands with their sharp knuckles and tapered fingertips, and their calluses from Firebending and sword fighting—would cup over her abdomen sometimes.
1. Love's Child Part I

His hands—his graceful hands with their sharp knuckles and tapered fingertips, and their calluses from Firebending and sword fighting—would cup over her abdomen sometimes. They would curve gently over the pregnancy-hardened skin of her stomach, trace up and over the prominent veins in her swollen breasts.

His pale face, so different than hers with his aristocratic bone structure, fair coloring, and narrow nose, would flush with delight and trepidation whenever he saw her—he'd always looked at her as if he couldn't believe she was there, but nowadays he looked absolutely pained when she was near. He was in evident agony, caught between overwhelming joy and overwhelming despair.

He tossed around at night—grinding his teeth, muttering "No, I'm sorry, I won't, I can't fight you," and "Be a good father, be a good…" And she would rise from bed, hands cupped protectively over her growing stomach, to get up and sit next to him, rubbing his bare, sweaty back and mumbling words of love and comfort. He would shudder, sigh, and fall back to a peaceful sleep, head cushioned against her stomach, curled around her as if to protect her even whilst he was unconscious.

Fierce, so fierce and stern when he was around others, aloof like they'd bred him to be—like his bones were made of metal, and his veins ran with ice. Ironic, that. He was so passionate, so full of heat, that it was obvious he'd been born to be a Firebender, fashioned by the Spirits—or Agni, as Zuko would say—specifically for that.

"Zuko," she would mumble against his lips as he nuzzled at her, shaping his hands over and over across her swelling belly as if to memorize its contours, "you're being silly. I won't go away. You'd think my being pregnant would just bind me closer to you."

"Part of the reason I wanted you pregnant, Kat," he would mumble back, sliding down to kiss her distended stomach. "I'm obsessive, remember? The more reasons you can't escape me, the better."

"I wouldn't want to escape," she would reply.

"Good." His good ear pressed against her abdomen, a breathless chuckle of wonderment. "I can hear…I can hear her heartbeat, Kat."

"For all you know, it could be a boy." Her fingers sliding through the beauty that was his loose hair—he always let it out of its formal topknot when they were alone—scrunching up the ends. It had grown out to his shoulders, and he looked wonderful with it loose and a bit uneven. When he trimmed it, he trimmed it with a dagger.

"No." A soft kiss, delicate like insect wings. "It's a girl. I know it."

"Do you think she'll bend water or fire, then, Hotpants?"

"Fire," he said, just as firmly as he'd spoken when he'd declared their baby a girl. "A Waterbender wouldn't kick this much." As if to punctuate their father's statement, the little baby's ankle met the wall of Katara's womb.

"Are you so sure about that, Hotpants? We Waterbenders can get pretty aggressive."

"Don't I know it." Another kiss, this one to the top of her breast before he returned to her belly. "Hmmm, maybe you're right, Sweetness. Knowing her mother, she could be one tough Waterbender."

"That's what I thought you'd said."

"Katara…"

"Yes, Zuko?"

"What if…" Clearing of throat, hands clamping down on her hips. "What if I…"

"Be quiet right now," she cut him off, "you will never, ever be like that man." Her fingers ran over the puckered skin of his scar—over largely deadened nerve endings, over his slit eye. The scar was as much a part of him as his hair and his name and the beautiful voice that she loved to hear all the time, especially when he was inside of her. Gentle, fierce, possessive and loving and angry—so many facets to him. She loved him for that.

She just loved him.

"You…really think that?" His voice was small, strained, a young child fearing monsters that lurked.

"Yes. I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't meant it."

A wheezing, half sobbing laugh. "Well, since you've never given me quarter with your words before, I guess I can trust you."

"You can also trust me when I say that you'll be an amazing father. Okay?"

"…uh. Yeah."

"Don't go all stiff and awkward on me, Zuko." She cupped his face in her hands and coaxed it up to hers. Vivid blue met molten yellow. "You're not allowed to act that way with me."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I have you well trained." She peppered kisses along his face before settling back against the couch, stroking through his hair rhythmically. He curled around her again, rubbing his lips up and down her belly.

"Yes. Yes you do."

"Thought of any names yet?" Katara asked after a few long moments of companionable silence.

"Actually…" He trailed off.

"Spit it out, Hotpants."

He cleared his throat; she could feel his cheeks warm against her bare skin. "Does—well this is probably no good—but if it's a girl—I know it's a girl—do you think…do you think we could maybe—name her…Aiko?"

Aiko. Love child. Child of love.

Katara's eyes burned. She had to scrub at them with her free hand. "Yes, Zuko. Yes, we can name her that."


	2. Love's Child Part II

A/N: As I've said, this was originally going to be nothing more than a short oneshot, one I wrote some time ago-but, by request, I decided to expand it a bit into a twoshot. I hope you all enjoy, and I hope this chapter lives up to the first, just a little.

**Edit:** So, there has been some interest expressed in my expanding this further into a proper, multi-chaptered fic with a (relatively) solid storyline. Should I or shouldn't I? Please let me know in a review, or via private messaging. If enough interest is shown, I probably will!

* * *

THE FIRE LADY swoops down and scoops the child up, stroking blunt-nailed fingers down her loops of blue-black hair. The hair is coarse, like hers. But it's darker, much darker—and it shines softly in the light.

Like her father's.

"Mama, I was having fun," the little girl whines, even as she locks her chubby arms around her mother's neck. "I was feeding the turtleducks."

"You were _tossing bits of bread_ at the turtleducks," her mother returns, a certain dryness in her voice that is lost on the child.

Aiko's shoulders round up on a shrug. "That's how Auntie Azula taught me to feed them."

Her mother's smooth brow crumples, and she mutters something scathing about _Auntie Azula_ under her breath. "I don't think you should take everything your Aunt Azula says to heart, my love."

Aiko's brows draw up in confusion, and her pink mouth juts out. She doesn't know—doesn't know about Azula's dark past, about her downward spiral into insanity. All she knows is that Aunt Azula is standoffish and severe. All the same, she seems to have a soft spot of Aiko, and has even offered to train the child in the arts of Firebending once she is of age.

The Fire Lord and Lady are not quite certain about allowing such a thing—but whenever Azula brings it up, Aiko's amber eyes sparkle with eagerness, and her pretty lips fold on a brilliant grin that the otherwise solemn child rarely gives.

The Fire Lord and Lady do not want to be responsible for wiping that look from Aiko's face forever.

They are not going to be those parents. That much they are certain of. The determination to be _better _than their pasts beats in their blood, binds them together more surely than iron chains. And the Fire Lady, for her part, is quite certain that no amount of strife could dissolve those chains.

Not to say that she wishes to test it.

"Your father and I will teach you how to feed them properly, how's that?" The Fire Lady kneels in a graceful movement, her blue skirts flaring out around her, dragging over the summer-thick grass.

Aiko nods eagerly and settles back against her mother—only to give a soft squeal of delight when she sees her father approach from across the garden.

He settles against his wife, dropping a kiss on Aiko's soft head. Her skin is the same beautiful shade as her mother's. But her eyes mirror his. He finds it uncanny, and not a little eerie. He can only pray to Agni that she becomes so much more than he could ever be.

The Princess of the Fire Nation, he thinks to himself, is destined for great things. Destined to outshine both of her parents, and lead a nation no longer divided by strife and war.

"How are you two?" He runs a thumb over his wife's broad cheekbone. She is beautiful. She'll always be beautiful.

"Feeding turtleducks," Aiko replies, ripping up bits of bread. Her mother guides her hands, ascertains that the child tosses them gently, and _not_ at the turtleducks' heads.

Zuko clasps a hand on Katara's shoulder. He values this small, mundane sort of peace. He is aware of the future's difficulties—and he's not one to avoid the reality of them.

But for now, he will value this small moment, a moment suspended and preserved in a haze of love.


	3. Steam Kiss

A/N: By sort of-popular demand, I've expanded "Love's Child" into a series of drabbles/oneshots about Zuko, Katara, and their children. I hope you like this offering, my dears! Reviews feed the muse :D

* * *

SOMETIMES, HER MOTHER carves ice with her breath.

The little girl watches, legs folded under her bottom, round blue eyes goggling. She wishes she could do that, manipulate streams of water and freeze them mid-air with nothing more than an exhale. But her power lies in tongues of fire and puffs of smoke—and she's hardly _talented_ in those areas, in any case.

But Katara—that is her mommy's name—_breathes_ ice, brings up crashing waves with the mere twitch of her rough brown fingers.

The child twists her fingers in her lap, over crushed silk robes, and wishes she could manipulate ice and water the way her mommy does.

Sometimes, _sometimes_, Mommy and Daddy spar. The flame twists around the water, as if it's _embracing_ its rival. The way Mommy and Daddy embrace, when they think their daughter isn't looking. But when the fire and water kiss, steam rises to cloud the eternal summer sky.

She doesn't think that Mommy and Daddy make steam. One time, she asked her Uncle Sokka if they did—and he choked on a hunk of meat.

When Mommy and Daddy kiss, the little girl feels a mixture of nausea and a strange kind of warmth. She guesses that might be a kind of love.

She hopes she finds a love like theirs, one day.


	4. Lilies

A/N: I was aiming for the next drabble in this series to be about Katara's second pregnancy, but I'm putting that off for a bit because, A) I'm not a big expert in pregnancy, having never been pregnant; and, (B, I posted this on my tumblr account to diffuse some tension in the Zutara tags, and figured I should put it here as well.

The next drabble is _still_ just about Aiko, but after that, there will be (I hope) a longer oneshot about Kat's second pregnancy and the birth of their baby boy (yes, it's a boy).

Thanks so much to everyone for the reviews and support! It means a lot, truly.

* * *

"LONG AGO," KATARA says, tracing fingers through her daughter's web of hair, "there was a Spirit who loved a mortal woman so much, he died for her."

"But Spirits don't die." Aiko's brow crumples, and she peeks up at her mother curiously. "They can't die, Mama."

"This spirit did," Katara corrects gently, cradling her daughter close to her breasts. The child pillows her chin on her mother's collarbone and listens intently. She is very good at that, for one so young.

"How did that happen?"

"Well, this mortal woman was a very powerful bender—so much so that men shook with fear and awe when she was around. So much so that her beauty and prowess caught the attention of a very important spirit. His name was Qing. The human woman's name was Yuriko."

"Yuri?" Aiko's eyes go round as coins. "Like the flower?"

"Yes, sweetheart, like the flower. In any case, the spirit decided that he would court Yuriko. First with perfumes, which she turned away. Next with pounds of jewelry—which she also declined. He tried again by challenging her to an Agni Kai, thinking the fierceness would catch her attention. She won, and remained unimpressed."

"What happened next?" Aiko's bottom lip droops with the desire to sleep, but she is determined to hear this to the end.

"At his wits end, Qing offered Yuriko a simple red flower that had never been seen on the mortal plane before—Yuriko accepted it, as well as Qing's hand in marriage.

"The couple rejoiced—but three days before their wedding, Yuriko fell ill and faded away. She refused Qing's help. She believed that her time had come, and that she had no right to defy fate."

"This sounds like a sad story…"

"Shh, sweetheart." Katara settles back on the bed and readjusts Aiko in her lap. "Qing decided that he could not live forever without her, so he took his essence and hers and turned them into flowers that were just like the one he'd given her, the one that warmed her heart to him."

"What kind of flowers are those…?"

"Fire lilies, sweetheart. They're fire lilies."

Aiko perks up in spite of her apparent exhaustion. "Like the ones daddy gives you all the time!"

"Yes, Aiko, just like those."

When Aiko nuzzles against her collarbone and drifts to sleep, Katara smiles over her head into a pair of liquid amber eyes.

"You made that story up." The Fire Lord stoops to kiss his wife's wide mouth, lingeringly.

"I've run out of other bedtime stories, and I don't want to give her more of the same."

Zuko curls up around her, resting his face in the crook of her neck. The grooves of his scar rasp over her skin. "I'm sure she'd enjoy them anyway."

"I know." Katara tilts her face; their lips connect and hold. Zuko runs his fingers through his wife's hair and tucks a fire lily behind her ear.


	5. Fractured Sunlight

A/N: Whoo, a double update! Slightly revised version of another tumblr drabble.

* * *

HIS BLACK HAIR mingles with her brown. The long spray of it is flung over her shoulders; and it tickles her face when she blinks awake.

Katara huffs and turns in place, flinging a boneless arm over Zuko's side. She crinkles her nose and smiles into his sleeping face, tracing a thumbnail over his scar. He's rendered more beautiful by that scar, rather than made hideous. He wouldn't understand, of course; because while that scar is no longer a mark of shame, it isn't a point of pride, either. It's a simple fact of his appearance, like his milky skin and narrow eyes.

But to her—it is a symbol of his compassion, something that most thirteen year old boys wouldn't have been able to muster up for strangers. It is a mark of his honor, and the depths of his kindness.

She's grateful that their daughter seems to agree with her.

"Mommy!" A high pitched whine, swiftly followed up by pitiful yanks on their blankets. Katara rolls in place again, and she gropesover the side of the bed. Her fingers clamp down on the little girl's chubby sides. Shining eyes meet hers, and a sweet smile curls a rosebud of a mouth.

"Mommy, wake up! You and Daddy promised me you would take me to visit Aunt Suki and Uncle Sokka!"

"That we did." Katara nuzzles her nose against Aiko's, absorbing the smell of sleep and freshly washed linens. She squints over her slumbering husband's shoulder. It is a rare occurrence indeed, for her to wake before he does. _I rise with the sun_ and all that. But then, the sun has hardly breached the horizon's rim.

"Dad_dy_!" Aiko whines, squirming out of her mother's grip and bouncing onto Zuko's side. She takes two great clumps of long hair between her fists and tugs. Zuko yelps and twitches awake.

"Daddy, wake up, we're going to see Aunt Suki and Uncle Sokka!" Another tug.

"I heard you, I heard you." Even though he grumbles, Zuko blows a raspberry against Aiko's stomach, sending the child into a giggle fit.

"Do you think Uncle Sokka will still call me Baby Squishy?" Katara and Zuko exchange eye rolls. Katara slides through the sheets, the silk passing smooth as water over her skin, and curls up closer to her husband and daughter.

"Knowing him, probably," Zuko snorts. A smile twitches its way onto his mouth when Aiko blows a raspberry against his scar. It warms Katara's heart, to see him let someone other than she, herself, touch that mass of red grooves and ridges.

"Will he still call you Sifu Grumpypants?"

The smile falls from Zuko's face. He mumbles something about where Sokka can put his nicknames. Katara jabs an elbow into his ribs and covers his mouth with hers.

Aiko makes a disgusted sound and prods at her parents until they stop. Through the windows, the sun's disc breaches the horizon and gilds the small family with amber.


End file.
